


Special occasions call for special measures

by freddi11



Series: Fluffballs [2]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Platonic Ship, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, a reunion, a surprise for grumpy cat, and hopeless romantic ali, and platonic otp cuteness as usual, grumpy cat jimmy, or "what actually happened in antigua this january", this could either be canon to "the way you look tonight", very much inspired by lovely pics on instagram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freddi11/pseuds/freddi11
Summary: January 2019, Antigua.The England test team are preparing for the second test against the West Indies when a long-missed friend catches up with them.And has a special surprise for Jimmy.





	Special occasions call for special measures

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this: http://freddi11.tumblr.com/post/182845696144/some-very-recent-cookerson  
> and my perennial source of inspiration for Cookerson, @joyousreader.
> 
> Have fun :)

Memories.

After 12 years of travel, of games all around the world, memories line Ali's path wherever he goes.

These days, even a casual mention of one of the many places he's been to  - a feature on the TV news, his friends discussing their summer holiday plans - is enough to send him into a short daydream.

 

But no country holds more memories for him than Antigua, no place carries greater meaning than that beautiful island.

After all, Antigua was where it all began, one afternoon in early March 2006. With an e-mail he even now can remember by heart.

An e-mail that would send him hurrying to his hotel room, hastily packing up everything in his kitbag and then trying to get an early night's sleep (not that he actually slept much, mind you).

 

The following morning, a taxi collected them after breakfast, took them to the airport. On to a long, exhausting, almost non-stop plane journey halfway across the world.

And the fairytale began.

 

As this latest taxi, a slightly battered but cheerily painted Volkswagen Beetle, speeds along the road out of Saint John's, Ali is lost in yet another daydream.

About something entirely different on that morning in March, 13 years ago (where has the time gone, really?).

Or rather, someone.

Someone who was sitting next to him in the car, backpack on his lap, staring sullenly out of the window, not saying a single word.

Just occasionally, whenever he thought Ali wasn't paying attention, sneaking a glance across the car interior with an unreadable expression.

Observing Ali. Obviously trying to find a way to break the ice.

And being completely unable to. 

A fellow introvert.

A bowler from Lancashire who Ali had only met once, previously, in a county match a couple of weeks prior.

And who would go on to become one of the - if not the - most important people in his life.

His nets partner for over a decade (do Jonny and Rory remember they need to keep telling him to "bowl a bit fuller"?).

His darts partner for even longer than that.

His rock in the toughest times and his closest confidante. The only person he knows who lets Ali be himself (okay, that was unfair towards Joe, but their relationship is different).

His - _his_ \- Jimmy.

As simple as that.

 

"So he really doesn't know?"

 

An amused Northern English voice breaks through Ali's thoughts.

"Was it so obvious who I was thinking about?" he can't resist asking as he turns around to the back seat.

The man he's adressing - wearing a hat (as usual), glasses, shorts and absolutely abysmal Hawaii shirt (Jimmy would have words with him) - leans forward and smirks at him. "Of course, Cooky. How long have we known each other?"

"Should have known," Ali sighs. "Well, what did you expect, Aggers? He isn't just anyone." (And he knows, without looking in the mirror, that he's beaming).

"I know I've told you this before, but you two are ridiculous." Jonathan (he does sometimes forget that that's his actual first name, he's been "Aggers" for so many people for so many decades now) smiles and presses down the button for the

car window next to him. "Looking forward to seeing his reaction. He has been exceptionally grumpy in the last couple of weeks."

 

And just the thought of that is enough to make Ali's heart beat a little bit faster.

 

The taxi comes to a halt at the back entrance of Sir Viv Richards stadium, a few feet away from the training ground.

Jonathan and Ali get out, hand a tip to the driver and pause for a moment to take in the scenery.

"Doesn't get any better, does it?" Jonathan comments and stretches.

"Yes." Ali was only half paying attention. Too busy listening to all the familiar sounds from the ground - the snick of willow connecting with leather, the shouts, the occasional applause or appreciative little quiet "shot".

 _I'm back. With my lads. I'm home again._ A beaming smile spreads across his face, accompanied by a warm, deep-seated happiness.

"Come on, let's give them a surprise."  Jonathan shoulders his backpack and leads the way.

 

 

"Right, let's do it again, Woody!" Joe shouts and gets into position. Calms himself down, tries to anticipate the delivery.

Tries to watch the ball as he learned from so many of his coaches (but really only understood in Dubai, six years ago, on that unforgettable first afternoon in the nets with Ali).

Mark marks his run-up, charges in (he really is capable of breathtaking speed when he's fully fit) and releases the ball.

Almost 90 miles per hour (that's what it felt like).

Joe is only able to play it defensively, drive it low through extra cover and ...

 

"shot."

 

Joe can't believe his ears.

 

A voice he knows so well.

That he has been longing to hear for such a long time, even caught himself dreaming about on more than one occasion (which he will always keep to himself. Jos doesn't need to know everything).

_Trust him to sneak up on us and not tell anyone when his flight was going to arrive. He is so much more mischievous than he lets on. He's ... well, that's Ali. My rock, my idol (even now). My friend._

So what if it is the middle of training and the second test is only two days away?

 

Joe takes off his helmet, drops his bat as gently as he can, and darts across the grass. Hardly pays notice to the comments, the shouts of "what on earth bit him this time?" behind him.

"Welcome back!" he yells at the top of his voice.

"Great to see you again, Joe," Ali replies affectionately.

In that tone that Joe has missed the most. That Ali always reserves for him. That, even if he doesn't always tell him so directly, always lets Joe know just

how much Ali enjoys being around him, how ... fond he is of Joe.

 

A fierce hug almost knocks Ali off his feet.

He returns the embrace, squeezing Joe's shoulders. Strokes Joe's back as he hears a quiet, almost silent, slightly shaky breath and a slightly unsteady "missed you."

"It's alright, I'm here." Ali whispers.

Joe beams at him (and there is only a faint shine in his eyes). "About bloody time too."

 

But before they can say anything else to each other, a delighted little crowd in training kit and hats has made its way over to their current and former captain.

 

"Hi Chef!" Mo salutes with a grin. "Thought that was the least I had to do, seeing as I'm now speaking to a Knight of the Realm."

"Oh god, I should have known," Ali rolls his eyes affectionately. "They haven't stopped calling me SAC back in Chelmsford."

There is a short silence while everyone tries to work out what the abbreviation could refer to.

Ben laughs. "That's actually not that bad!" "Not when you're hearing it thirty times per day so _please don't._ " (Four years make it impossible not to slip into his captain voice every so often.)

"Okay okay." Ben pounds Ali's back. "How was your flight?" "And what is that monstrosity Aggers is wearing?" Jos adds with a chuckle.

 

And soon, it is as if Ali has just said goodbye to his boys a couple of days ago. Jokes, laughs and hugs. A few old insiders, slightly apprehensive questions if he's got any interviews planned that they should prepare for.

 _Where's Jimmy, though,_ he wonders as he joins Trev, Paul and Joe on a tour of the outfield, tries to assess the pitch quality and offer his opinion (that has to be allowed, surely? if it's off the record).

_I knew he would want to stay out of the crowd, that's something he never really feels comfortable with. But I ..._

"Stu and him are at the back, doing their usual target practice." Joe pokes Ali's side.

"I...?" "Yes." Joe puts an arm around Ali's shoulders with a fond grin. " _I_ always can tell."

 

"Come on then, Cooky, don't keep him waiting." Paul laughs.

_I am so glad I don't have to keep secrets around all of you._

 

Ali has to remind himself not to run as the familiar sight of his two friends, the most destructive bowling partnership England have had in a couple of decades and - in recent months - an almost inseparable duo, comes into view.

Taking turns to aim for a pair of stumps some feet away from them, commenting on each other's run-up and technique with a copious amount of sledging, as usual. And laughs.

_It's fantastic to hear you laugh, Jim. I..._

 

An electric current shoots straight through Ali as he realises he is being watched. Heat starts to pool in his cheeks ( _three and a half years and he still makes me blush_ ). And his heart is racing.

"Hi."

Ali takes off his sunglasses. Keeps standing where he is, watches the most handsome smile he knows take over Jimmy's features.

 

_Jimmy. My Jimmy._

 

"You really could have told us, you know." An - unconvincing - grumble.

And then, Jimmy has closed the gap between them, wraps his arms around Ali, holds him. Closes his eyes.

Ali feels the reassuring warmth of Jimmy's body in his arms.

Feels Jimmy's heart pound against his chest.

Holds him close. "You okay?"

"I'm now, definitely. And ... I'm in room 16, by the way." Jimmy whispers into Ali's right ear. Laughs quietly as he feels goosebumps.

 

Ali wants to say something in return when he is suddenly hit with another idea.

Quietly chuckling, he looks at Jimmy, arms still around his shoulders. "You might have to be a bit patient tonight. I've got a date with Aggers after this."

Jimmy's eyes narrow dangerously. "Date? As in...?"

"No, are you mental? We' re just going out for a quick bite. Need to discuss the schedule for the rest of this week." Ali adds before Jimmy can do anything else.

"You'd better not keep me waiting." Jimmy replies in what he thought was a threatening tone of voice. But is betrayed by his still unbelievably stupid smile.

 

"Nice one." Stuart laughs and hugs Ali. "So, you watching the rest of the session?"

"Sure. It's going to be incredibly odd but I'm curious." Ali replies.

"We done here, Jimmy?" Stuart picks up the ball he bowled before Ali interrupted them.

An unintelligible noise.

"That was enthusiastic, by your standards." Stuart quickly ducks out of the way of Jimmy's towel, hurled towards him.

Laughing, arms around each other, they walk back to the rest of their teammates.

 

"Ten more minutes and we're done for the day," Paul tells everyone.

Ali meets Joe's eyes. _I'm off. Need to get a couple of things for you-know-who-I-mean. Please don't give me away._

Joe gives him a wink and a thumbs-up. _Thought so. Have fun._

 

To nobody's real surprise, Jimmy is first into the showers after training and gets dressed in, what is for him, definitely record speed.

"Ali?" He looks around the now deserted training ground. Hears Joe laugh behind him. "Aggers and Ali left about 15 minutes ago. Said they'd booked a table somewhere in Saint John's and they would see us tomorrow."

Jimmy's face falls. Sighing, he grabs his kitbag. "So much for that."  _And here I was dreaming about the things we'd be able to do, tonight._

He looks so dejected that Joe almost wants to tell him what Ali's really up to, but stops himself in time. _Don't spoil the surprise._

 

On the way back to the hotel, in the team bus, Jimmy is the very picture of misery. 

Nothing the others haven't seen before. But this time there's an added layer to his silence, to his sullen, withdrawn slump at the back of the bus.

Almost as bad as on that afternoon last August in Trent Bridge.

When Jimmy had spent the entire drive out of the ground snuggled up to Ali (without giving a single thought to the fact that everyone else was watching them), head on Ali's shoulder, clinging onto him.

And Joe sat by himself, head against the bus window, staring straight ahead with suspiciously red and shiny eyes.

 

And ... but that is about the worst memory to drag up on this January evening.

Doesn't help at all. Not when it's still too fresh and raw. Still makes Jimmy choke up just thinking about it.

He shrugs off a friendly inquiry from Stuart - "you sure? thought you wanted to watch a bit of the day's play from the Scottsdale Open" (with an undertone of _would be better than sitting by yourself and moping, but you do you) -_

drags his bag out of the bus and up the stairs to the hotel entrance. Grabs his key card and wants to head upstairs to his room when the receptionist stops him and hands him an envelope. "I was told to give you this in person."

Jimmy opens the envelope with unsteady fingers and reads "Have a good evening, will see you when I'm back from dinner".

 

With a frustrated grunt, he tears the paper into tiny shreds and throws it into the wastepaper basket. Angrily stabs the button for the lift and - repeatedly - the buttons for his floor. Can NOT wait to be by himself.

 

But when Jimmy stops in front of his room and inserts his key card into the black slot on the entrance door, he finds that the door is already open.

Soft jazz music is playing from a speaker. A tune Jimmy knows all too well. _The Way You Look Tonight? Of all songs - what ....?_

Shivers down his spine. _Alastair Nathan Cook, what HAVE you done?_

All of a sudden, he can't wait to get inside. Closes the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

Almost stumbles over a candle.

There are a lot of candles in his room, in fact.

Flames dancing on the white ceiling. Giving off a soft warm light.

And there is a figure. On the bed. Sitting, looking up at Jimmy with a breathtaking beaming smile. Must have washed his hair less than an hour ago, it simply is too fluffy.

A pleasant, comforting smell in the air.

His shower gel. _He's had it for the last three years.  The scent always immediately takes me back. To Nottingham. That evening. And that magical morning._

Butterflies in his belly and more shivers down his spine. And an unbelievably intense warm feeling across all of his body.

"And you really thought I wasn't going to do anything, tonight?" Ali asks with that impish grin that Jimmy has always loved. Rises from his comfortable seat on the double bed.

"You..."

 

Jimmy can't finish the sentence. Isn't sure what he was going to say anyway.

Ali's arms wraps around him, pulling him close.

Pulling him into a long and tender kiss, one hand on his neck and the other resting in the middle of his chest.

_I'm whole again._

 

"Happy three and a half years. More or less." Ali whispers slightly breathlessly after they have broken their kiss.

"And to you." Jimmy replies softly. Hears himself smile without seeing anything.

Ali takes Jimmy's hand. Lies back down on the bed and Jimmy snuggles into his side, head on Ali's chest.

A soft kiss on Jimmy's temple. A hand strokes his right arm.

 

There is something about Antigua.

A place better than any other for really special memories.

 

"I could stay that way with you forever." Ali whispers.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
